Starcrossed
by heartbeat311
Summary: Rylie, Rorschach, and Eddie have separated to embark on their own individual journeys. Their paths are twisted and veiled in shadow, but each step brings them closer to each other- and the battle looming on the horizon. Sequel to "Where We Meet". *chap 7 up!*
1. Chapter 1

1. Reborn

_**Eddie**_

I stare out the window at the rain and try to keep myself from tearing at my own skin. I feel like I'm burning, but I'm not. At least, not outwardly. On the inside, it's a different story. On the inside, she is alive in me like a fire, catching the rest of me on fire, too, until I am nothing but an empty pyre.

Rylie is gone. Walter is gone. I am gone.

I have no idea where he went. He didn't leave a note and he didn't say good-bye. It wouldn't have hurt me so badly if we hadn't grown so close since she died.

After Rylie…I hadn't been able to summon up my voice. It was like she'd taken my vocal cords, my lungs [_MY HEART_] when she'd left. I couldn't talk to anyone.

Except Walter.

Maybe it was because they'd been so close. I mean, anyone who wasn't completely brain-dead could see that they were connected. And not just the love thing, either. There was a deeper connection between them. And maybe that was why I found I could only talk to him. Maybe Rylie left him a piece of a lung, a strip of a vocal cord.

But now he's gone. I have no more use for my voice. Jimmy and Damien have stopped calling. They're dealing with this hard, too, but not like me. They loved her, but they were not _in _love with her.

Mom and Dad are living with Malcom and I for now. I know they're here to watch me, to try and help if they can. But they can't help me.

Now I sit by this window and watch the rain. Hoping maybe, someday, it can extinguish the flames.

_**Rylie**_

I don't know where I am. I'm afraid to open my eyes.

I'm soaking wet and naked and I'm wedged between rocks. No, not rocks; they're too smooth to be rocks. Walls? Pavement? I can't tell.

Where was I before? I can't remember. I remember pain…and that it was raining, like it is now…and…and…

My eyes come flying open with a gasp.

_Walter!_

I scramble up from wherever I am, not caring that I'm naked, not caring that it's cold, just needing to see his face. The last time I saw it, it was filled with anguish. _Why? Why _did he seem so broken?

I am about to run off to find him when I remember. I gasp again, but this one is soft and understated compared to the first.

I am dead.

_Dead._

So why am I still alive?

_**Eddie**_

My dad calls me down for dinner, but he shouldn't bother. He should know I don't care anymore. About anything.

At some point, my mom comes upstairs to ask me- no, to _beg _me- to, please, eat something. I tune her out.

Malcom comes upstairs at some point, too, but he just sits there with me. He doesn't say anything, only glances at me occasionally. I appreciate that.

When I am finally alone again, it's a little past midnight. The rain continues. I feel like it's been raining nonstop since Rylie died, but that may just be my imagination. I can't really remember specific days since her funeral, it's all too muddy.

Not that this is a bad thing. If I remember too clearly, I may not be able to hang on.

When the flash comes, at first I think it's lightning.

But then again, I've never known lightning to leave a blue man in its wake.

I blink when I see him, but that's all. No great celebration, no gasping, no crying out like a normal person. Guess I'm not normal anymore. But that's what happens when you lose your best friend/love of your life.

It occurrs to me, vaguely, that I have never actually seen Dr. Manhattan in person. That this, in theory, should be a huge, exciting moment in my life.

...In theory.

He looks right at me through my window. I stare back. Finally he speaks, but I don't see his lips move so he must be speaking directly to my mind, like Walter once said he could.

_Hello, Eddie, _he greets me.

I don't reply. Why should I? The most powerful man in the world, and he didn't even bother trying to save Rylie? Or, hell, he could bring her back! Didn't he do that with Walter? Why did he choose to do nothing now? Did he even care?

_I understand this must be a troubling time for you, but it's time to get back to work, _he continues.

Apparently not.

I feel a spark of anger, but it's just a spark. I don't feel anything more than that these days. _A "troubling time"? _I repeated in a dead voice. _My best friend just died._

_Death is not necessarily the end, _Manhattan replies, in a voice that is as perfectly empty as mine.

Jeez, why did I have to have something in common with the jolly blue giant? I mean, shit, he wasn't even jolly.

_Yeah, tell that to Rylie, _I mutter and turn away. I'm done looking at dead things.

_Tell her yourself._

It takes me a moment- I don't register things quite as quickly as I used to- but slowly I turn back to him, carefully numb. _What are you talking about? _I demand.

_Rylie. She's dead, yes, but I brought her back, _Manhattan answers, as though we're just talking about the weather.

So he _had _brought her back.

He

Brought

Her

Back.

The explosion of emotion within my chest- emotions so strong and fierce that I have no names for them- nearly tears me apart, and I struggle to keep myself from complete and total destruction.

"You're lying," I say in a trembling voice, forgetting that he can hear me speak in my mind.

He shakes his head. _I wouldn't lie._

The tears come then, bursting from my eyes like burning waterfalls, and I feel like my heart might explode but it doesn't.

_You will see her again. But you must trust me, _Manhattan continues.

"Anything! Anything!" I gasp, slamming into the window and pressing my palms desperately against the pane. All I can think is, _She'saliveshe'saliveshe'salive!_

He dips his head to me. _Come with me._

I rush outside, not caring whether or not I wake the rest of the house. The rain is freezing cold, but it feels blissful against my skin. I stop a few feet from Manhattan, watching him with wide, desperate eyes. "Take me to her!" I insist.

He holds up one hand. "Wait," he commands me. "I have to tell you what I need of you."

I narrow my eyes. So this was going to be a trade, huh? "What you need of me?" I repeat flatly.

"If you want to see her again, there are certain things you need to do first," he tells me calmly.

Part of me burns with resentment at being used, but there is no way I'm passing up the opportunity to see Rylie again. I don't think it would be safe for me to do so anyway.

"Fine. What do you need me to do?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so...Originally I never planned for this to happen. Ever. There was a completely different path this story was supposed to take. But we'll see where _this _path goes and if we still end up where we're supposed to. Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

__2. Voices

_**Rorschach**_

Still raining. Has been for weeks. Soaked to the bone.

_In more ways than one, _Cadence jokes to remind me.

To remind me she is dead and I'm soaked in the memory of her.

Not first time I've seen her. Some part of me knows I've gone crazy. Seeing dead people, talking to them… Not the sign of a sane man.

But keep talking. If I stop, might lose myself completely.

"Thought dead didn't talk," I mutter, ignoring her as she falls into step beside me.

_You must've thought wrong, _she replies, throwing me cheesy grin that's painfully familiar.

Heart aches. Grit my teeth. "Why don't you find someone else to haunt?" I growl. But threat is nonexistent. I know this. She knows this. Couldn't live without her. Even as a ghost.

_Cuz you're too much fun to mess with, _Cadence replies easily. Then frowns at me. _You really should get out of the rain though._

Scolding tone. Mother hen. I snort. "Where could I go? Forest now. Far from city." And I was. Feet had taken me far from where I'd been. From where we'd met.

_Go back. _

Voice is soft, pleading. Looks at me hopefully. Glare at her.

"Should know me better by now," I snap.

She hangs her head. Passes through a tree like mist. _Yeah, I do. But it doesn't hurt to ask, _she sighs. Then glares at me stringently. _But if you get sick, you'll have no one to blame but yourself._

Stare at her. "Half right," I say.

She stares back. _I didn't choose to leave you, _she reminds me. Gentle but firm.

Still can't help blaming her. Know it's irrational. Don't care. She left me. Have no choice now but to leave myself.

"Should have been more careful on patrol. Always told you," I snap.

She nods. _I'm sorry._

"Not good enough," I reply.

_**Rylie**_

It's dawn now. It took me forever to find clothes without actually being seen by anyone. Now I'm in an old warehouse overlooking the city.

I'm in New York. I've figured out that much. I don't know _when_ it is, but I can tell I'm far in the past, impossible as it seems.

'Course, I'm supposed to be dead. So maybe nothing's impossible.

I've touched my chest. There's no scar there, nothing to suggest a bullet pierced my heart, nothing to suggest I vomited blood or told Walter I love him.

I cringe. _I've told Walter I love him_. I'm not sure how wise a decision that was, now that I'm still alive to see the repercussions.

Well, maybe. I have to keep reminding myself I'm in the past now and I might never see him again anyway. But that possibility hurts almost as much as the memory of the bullet slicing through me, so I force myself to look at the facts.

Really there's only one rational explanation. I mean, didn't Jon bring Walter back from the dead, too? He's the only person who could possibly resurrect me.

Except Walter had said he'd been reborn on Mars. And he said Jon kept in contact with him. Why wasn't Jon talking to _me_? He hadn't even been there when I'd woken up!

_Man, what kind of crap is this? _I think to myself miserably as I pull the peacoat I managed to steal from a small store downtown more tightly around me. I miss Walter; I want him here with me. And Eddie. I want to see them both again more than I want anything else.

_Cadence, _a soft voice whispers in my head. I look up, startled, because he can't possibly be here. And when I look around, I don't see him. Shaking my head, I bury my nose in the peacoat and curse myself and this entire confusing situation.

_Cadence, why are you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself when you've got work to do? _Walter snaps again, more impatiently this time, and I am jolted from a sleep I didn't know I'd even started to cross into.

Whipping my head from side to side, I search desperately for him. But he isn't there. "Walter?" I call tentatively all the same.

_Get up, you lazy beast, and stop moping! _Walter growls again.

This time I realize what's going on. It's just me, just my mind. I've become so accustomed to being with Walter that I can hear exactly what he would be saying to me right now.

My disappointment is strong, but I still can't help forcing myself slowly to my feet. "Well, you don't have to be rude about it," I mutter, brushing off cobwebs and dust.

_Shouldn't you be used to his rudeness by now? _Eddie chimes in from somewhere in my brain.

"I am. Doesn't mean I like it, though," I mumble. I probably shouldn't be talking out loud to myself.

_Talking to yourself is unhealthy, _Walter reminds me, and this time he is not just my imagination but also a memory. When he'd been attacked by suits and Rob's gang had saved him, and I'd thought he was dead.

But I can't help it. The absence of them feels so strong, like a physical thing in the room with me. It's like their absence has become a presence. So talking to them makes me feel just a bit better about all this mess.

I wonder if Walter can hear _my _voice right now, wherever he is.

_Always, _he grumbles in my mind, but there is a softness just barely detectable under the surface. I blush just a little.

_Looks like the Terror of the Underworld has a soft spot, _Eddie sneers, and I can almost see Walter whip around to glare at him.

_Don't you have somewhere else to be? _

_Not until four._

"Okay, will you guys shut up for two seconds?" I shout and roll my eyes. "Jesus, you guys don't even stop arguing in my imagination!"

_Sorry, doll. He just brings out the worst in me, _Eddie apologizes.

_Likewise, _Walter says through clenched teeth.

"Will you just tell me what I'm supposed to be doing right now?" I demand, aiming my question at Walter since he seems to know.

_I would have thought that would be obvious, _he replies, sounding exasperated.

"Well, obviously it's not, so can you just spit it out please?"

But the voice that responds is not Walter's. It's not Eddie's, either.

_It's time for you to learn about Rorschach, _Jon tells me.

I blink in surprise, half-listening for either Walter or Eddie to chime in. But they've fallen silent. It's just me and Jon now.

I look up at the ceiling, as though expecting him to be floating there or something. "What do you mean?" I protest. "I know about Rorschach. He's my partner." I hesitate to say friend. I'm not sure if Rorschach is anyone's _friend. _Walter, of course, is a different story...

_No, you don't. When you are around, Walter is dominant most of the time. You love Walter. Now you must learn to love Rorschach, _Jon says.

I glare angrily at the ceiling now. How could he suggest I don't love Rorschach? Rorschach is Walter and Walter is Rorschach. I love both of them. "I _do _love Rorschach," I growl, clenching my fists.

_How can you love something you don't understand? _

My next words, when they come, are so unfair and childish that I'm instantly ashamed. But I can't stop them. "Well Laurie loved _you_," I shout.

_Yes, she did. And she ended up with Dan because Dan is someone she can relate to. She understands him. If you wish to remain with Walter, you must understand Rorschach, _Jon replies evenly.

Whatever. Rorschach's not the easiest person to get along with but I love him by default. He's my partner, and Walter's my friend. What's not to understand?

_If you want to see Walter again, that's what you must do, _Jon continues.

My heart stops. I blink once, twice, to gather my thoughts. "So you're saying...if I don't do as you say...I won't see Walter again?" I murmur slowly.

_That's exactly what I'm saying._

Rage burns inside me, but it's tempered by the _need. _The _need_ to see Walter again. I can't live without him now, that much is for sure, and if the voices in my head weren't enough to convince me this need is.

"What do I need to do?" I growl through clenched teeth.

_Wait until night. Meet me by the window to your right when the moon has risen. That will be at 8:15. Don't be late, _Jon instructs me. Then he's gone. I know because I can suddenly feel a strange emptiness in my head.

I stand there for a long time, staring at nothing and thinking through what Jon has told me. If I don't listen to him, I won't see Walter again. I want to ask him why he didn't just save me back in the present time instead of going to all this trouble to reincarnate me.

_Well, you're not going to find anything out just standing there like that, _Walter snaps at me.

I nod distantly. "Yeah," I agree. "I know."

_You need to find out what the date is, _Walter continues.

_And food, _Eddie chimes in cheerfully. _You need to find food._

I grin absently. "Trust you to think of your stomach."

_I'm not thinking of _my _stomach, I'm thinking of _yours.

**_Eddie_**

When I stumble into the past, wherever it is Manhattan decided to take me, it's nighttime. It's chilly but not cold, so it must be late autumn or early spring. Shivering lightly, I wrap my arms around myself and start walking.

"Don't understand why you couldn't have at least given me a _hint,_" I grumble quietly.

_Does it matter when you'll figure it out in the end? _Manhattan replies and I roll my eyes.

I'm not sure how much time I spend walking, but it becomes clear to me as I do that I am in the deep past. Not 1800s or anything like that. 30's or 40's maybe. But I was half-expecting Manhattan to take me back to the root of it all- the 80s.

_That was not the root of it all, that was the end, _Manhattan says. _And the beginning. _

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snap. "If it's the end _and _the beginning, how is it not also the root?"

_It didn't start there, it ended there._

"But if it...? Oh, what the hell am I doing arguing with you?" I shout, glaring furiously at the vast black sky above me. Stupid freaky know-it-all. "I don't know how Walter puts up with you."

_Keep walking, Eddie._

It's when I'm passing a row of run-down apartment buildings that I feel it. A light tugging on my heart. I look to the right.

At first, I don't see him. I examine the face of the building next to me, so neglected that it looks derelict. But there are lights on in some of the windows, so I know that the apartments are rented out.

I can't stop staring at this one window. It's completely dark on the inside, no light coming from behind, but I can't stop staring. It's like I've been frozen where I stand.

Then the moon, hidden up until now behind a bank of clouds, slowly cranes her neck and sheds light upon the window. And I gasp.

He stares back at me with ice-blue eyes I have never forgotten.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, hope you're enjoying the story so far. If it's a little boring I promise the action will pick up. Please review! :)


	3. Chapter 3

NOTE: _Phew! _Alright, folks, here it is! A long time coming, but chapter three is up! Hope you all haven't abandoned this. :P Truth is I kinda lost my passion for this story, but I will try to keep it going. I'd also like to really quickly thank my loyal reviewers/readers! You guys are awesome for sticking around this long and I love each and every one of you!

3. Far-from-homecomings

**_Eddie_**

Autumn light pierces through the gold and orange leaves, staining the concrete below. I am sitting with my back pressed against an old chain-link fence, nestled in a pile of fallen leaves. Behind me is a schoolhouse, a pathetically small brick building with stained windows, several of which have been broken and then layered with sheets of plastic.

I pull my knees up to my chest and sigh. I've been waiting for an hour, waiting for a glimpse of young Walter. I've been in Jersey for six days now, sleeping behind dumpsters and stealing what I need. I imagine it's what Walter felt like before he moved in with-

Instinct stops the thought in its tracks immediately, and I shut my eyes. In my head I see her falling, blood suspended in midair for the briefest of heartbeats. Her beautiful, pale face, blood in her mouth like rubies, tears running down her cheeks.

_She is alive,_ Manhattan reminds me quietly.

I open my eyes, glaring at the ground. "Doesn't make it any easier. Until I see her alive again I won't stop seeing her dead," I growl.

Before he can respond, the school doors open behind me and a flock of screaming, laughing children floods out. I scramble to my feet and search the crowd for that familiar flash of fiery red hair.

He is bringing up the rear, holding a ratty book under one arm. His head hangs low, his shoulders slumped, and a stab of pity surges through me.

I scowl. Since I'd first seen him that night in his window, I've been following him, always at a distance. I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do now that I've found him, as Manhattan refuses to be any less cryptic than usual. So I've just been following him- from school and back, to the grocery store, to the dusty bookstore downtown. And, with the exception of the bookstore, his expression remains the same from place to place. Sad. Hollow. Pitiful. He must be eight or nine, and yet he has the eyes of a forty-year-old. Everytime I see his face, I feel this unwelcome pang of sorrow and I have to remind myself that this is the kid who grew up to hate me and steal my soulmate and cause so much damage.

_You're being needlessly unfair, _Manhattan tells me.

I grit my teeth. _Since when do you care? _I reply. He doesn't respond. I turn back to the schoolyard. Most of the kids have left by now, scattered to the horizons to return home. Only Walter and a few other stragglers remain.

Three boys, older and significantly bigger than him, are slowly lurching toward him. They smile and point, and I am close enough to hear their words.

"Hey, there's that little redhead freak," the biggest says.

"Yeah, isn't that sweet? Our little bitch decided to stay behind and wait for us!" another- a blonde, skinny boy- chimes in.

"Hey, bitch!" the biggest hollers.

Walter goes rigid, stopping in his tracks. He doesn't turn and I can't see his expression, but I can see the tensing in his muscles. Months of patrolling and training with him have taught me all too well what this means. He intends to fight.

_No, you little idiot, you can't take them, _I think, sidling closer to the gate.

"You wanna come 'ere for a while and play?" the bully continues, slowly stalking closer.

Walter turns and stares at him expressionlessly. "No," he says. His voice is quiet and empty and that is bad. That is really bad. My heart beats a little faster as my fingers grasp the edge of the gate.

The bully cocks his head, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "No?" he repeats, circling Walter. His two henchmen stay a few steps back, watching eagerly.

"You _are _a bitch, aren't you?" he continues. "Only a _bitch _would say no."

Walter narrows his eyes. "So you prefer whores?" he replies evenly.

The bully is silent for a moment, perhaps surprised by this reply. Then he barks out a laugh, half-astonished and half-angry. "Yeah, you know what? I _do _prefer whores. Like your mama. _That _cunt is so loose she has to check to make sure no one got lost in her pussy."

I take that as my cue to intervene, and right on time, too. Walter's eyes flash and his fists close, skin tighening across his freckled knuckles. Another second and he might have gotten his stupid ass beat. But I skid between them before he can do anything reckless.

"Alright, girls, play nice," I say, eyeing the head bully sternly. I tower over him and I can see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he demands.

I lean down till I'm eye level with him. "Your two broken legs if you don't split, understand?" I reply.

He hesitates one last second, then turns on his heel and blazes out of the schoolyard, followed closely by his lackies. I snort and straighten up, grinning. "Fuckin' pussy," I mutter, turning to Walter.

He watches me warily, retreating back a step. "Who are you?" he asks mistrustfully, glaring at me with baleful blue eyes.

I roll my eyes. "A friend," I reply impatiently. "Now aren't you going to thank me?"

He narrows his eyes. "I can fight my own battles, you know," he snaps.

"Not _yet_ you can't, pipsqueak!" I scoff.

He glares at me, confused and suspicious, but doesn't say anything. I sigh and kneel in front of him.

"Look, why don't I walk you home?"

"I don't need a babysitter."

I purse my lips, struggling to maintain a level of calm. "Yes, you do." _Brat, _I add silently. "Besides, those thugs will be waiting for you. If it's all the same I'd rather make sure you get home safely."

"I will," Walter says stubbornly.

I smile at him and shrug. "Suit yourself. But I'll follow you anyway and make sure."

He bristles defensively, trying to make himself bigger than he really is. It almost makes me laugh. "Fine," he snaps, scowling. Then he pushes past me and stalks away, not looking back to see whether or not I'm following.

I roll my eyes, stifling a growl. _He is just as cheery now as he will be later, _I think to myself and reluctantly follow.

_**Rorschach**_

Have been walking in circles. Should have been more careful. Stupid of me.

Reached southern edge of Lawrence at noon. Rain coming down in calm sheets. No anger. No sadness. Emotionless. Perhaps sky is spent. Wish I was, too. But roiling emotions inside will not die down. Anger is like fire but sadness burns worst of all. Cannot escape from it. Can only try to deal.

Would have left immediately if I hadn't seen the flyer. Eddie's face, rainwashed and faded, stares at me from brick wall of closest building.

_MISSING: Mason Edward Hollis._

_Missing? _I think, cocking head to the side.

Brows furrow. Frown creases my mouth. Doesn't make sense. Where could he have gone where Daniel could not follow? Daniel may be retired but _used _to be good vigilante. Couldn't imagine Damien and Jimmy not looking for him either.

Did something happen to him? Murdered? Maybe. Had created some enemies since becoming vigilante. Kidnapped? Also possible. Both criminals and government looking for him.

_Walter, _small voice whines desperately. Turn and glare at Cadence.

_Don't start, _I snap. Know what she will ask. Cannot do it.

_You _better_, you selfish bastard, _she snarls, fuming. Eyes like fire. Poisonous. Venemous.

_Wouldn't have happened if you were here, _I say.

She gapes at me. Astonished. Betrayed. Hold her gaze but want to look away.

_How _dare _you! You stupid son-of-a-bitch! What, is the Holocaust my fault, too? You wanna blame me for pollution and childhood abuse while you're at it?_

Don't say anything. Can't. She glares at me for a long time, then points at me. _You are gonna find him. I don't care that you don't like him, you will do it. You fucking owe me._

I bristle. Draw back a step, astounded. _I _owe _her?_

But don't say anything. Because in some ways, I do.

Turn away from her silently, mind automatically capturing the image of her face. Memorizing. I've felt image of her slipping, though it hasn't been that long. Thought terrifies me that I might someday forget her face, her voice. Can't forget her. Ever. Or else I disappear.

Check my old warehouse first. It's empty and has been for a while. Dust weighs everything down, a decayed coat on a starving animal.

Head to Eddie's house next. Can't see anyone from window. Must be out looking. Can't imagine his family ever giving up.

"Hurm," I growl under my breath. Have never been to Damien's house but know Jimmy lives there with him. Parents kicked him out when he confessed his sexuality. Damien's parents more accepting. Could be there. Or...

Sigh sharply. "Band rats," I mutter. Can almost feel Cadence grinning smugly.

Shove hands into pockets and head for the school.

By the time I get there, band is just heading out to football field. Trudge unnoticed onto track and climb steps to the top of the bleachers. Sit in center and watch. Try not to imagine Cadence, though it's hard. Band is soaked in Cadence.

Not hard to spot Jimmy and Damien. Both are drumline. Damien and his bass, Jimmy and his tenor. Cannot clearly see faces but can tell by body language their mood. Matches the rain. Empty.

An hour later, band comes to a halt. School is out. Stand and make my way down the steps.

Luke recognizes me first. "Walter?" he says, peering through rain.

Nod my head but say nothing.

Narrows his eyes and reaches behind him, touches Jimmy on the arm as he passes. "Dude. I think someone's here to see you," he says.

Jimmy looks up with dead eyes. They widen when they spot me. "Walter!" he exclaims, shrugging tenor drums off his shoulders and racing toward me.

Muscles tense. Know he will try to hug me. Knuckles ripple in preparation.

_Don't you dare! _Cadence shouts in outrage.

Grit my teeth. Fine. Won't hit the exuberant boy. Instead wait till the last second and step to the side.

He skids past me, expression nearly comical with surprise. Then he narrows his eyes. "Oh, yeah. You're the guy who hates hugs," he says. Excitement has faded from voice, deadened. Seems sedated.

Damien approaches more slowly, rest of drumline following at a distance. Almost confuse his expression with suspicion but realize it's only puzzlement.

"What are you doing here? We thought you left town after..." He trails off, for which I'm grateful.

"Heard about Eddie," I mumble. Rain cascades past my lips like saltless tears.

Excitement lights Damien's eyes, return's to Jimmy's. "Have you seen him?" he asks.

Shake my head. "No."

They both slump in unison, eyes darkening. "Oh...Well...are you going to help us look for him?"

All eyes are suddenly on me. Heat prickles under my skin. Have to focus on keeping feet from fidgeting.

"Suppose," I reply.

_You're damn right you suppose! _

_Shut up, Cadence._

"Don't really have much choice, anyway," continue. Try not to roll my eyes.

Jimmy glares at me, opens his mouth, but Damien cuts him off with warning look. "Well, thank you. We can use all the help we can get."

"Hurm."

"Well, we're all gonna head over to Eddie's house now to pick up more flyers. You can come with if you want," Damien continues.

"The drumline?"

Damien blinks. "No. The band," he says.

Stare at him in shock. The band? The _whole _band?

"I guess you wouldn't know. The band is...well, most of the band, anyway...is _kind of _a...group," he says.

Narrow my eyes. "What kind of group?"

Jimmy elbows Damien sharply. "Stop pussyfootin' around," he snaps, then glares at me. "We're the new Resistance."

Shock ripples through me. Even Cadence stays silent. Then, blinking, clear my throat.

"Must have been gone for longer than I thought."

**_Rylie_**

I tap my foot impatiently, creating a steady thrum on the dusty wood floor.

_So many warehouses_, I think absently. So many warehouses and empty buildings.

Outside, the full glow of the moon has not quite touched the highest rim on the window to my left. It's probably not 8:15 but it feels like I've been waiting for hours.

_Haven't I ever told you patience is a virtue? _Walter growls in my head.

I curl my lip. "Too many times," I mutter back.

_Yeah. You're such a fuckin' nag, _Eddie chimes in.

_And have I ever told _you _it's best to keep your mouth shut when you think like an idiot?_

_Guys, shut up! _I interrupt. _Jon will be here soon._

_I _am_ here, _a voice replies just seconds before an explosion of blue light blows my hair back. I stifle a gasp, shutting my eyes against the glare. When I open them, Dr. Manhattan, like magic, is standing in front of me.

Just a split second later I realize that he is completely naked. Again. Quickly, I avert my eyes.

_Why don'tcha take a picture, it'll last longer? _Eddie teases.

_Shut up!_

"You hear Eddie and Walter in your head," Jon states. It isn't a question.

Heat floods my cheeks. I want to curl up in embarrassment. Instead I hang my head and nod. "Do you think I'm crazy?" I ask miserably.

"Insanity is a subjective condition. It changes with each perspective," Jon replies.

I look up, blinking. He tries to smile but there is no comfort in it. The embarrassment fades but I still have no idea whether this is normal or not.

_Hearing voices? For you that's _more _than normal. That's quaint and innocent. That's borderline boring, _Walter says. His snarky tone almost makes me laugh but I clench my teeth intead.

_Since when do you have a sense of humor?_

_Maybe you're thinking of me wrong._

I roll my eyes and return my attention back to Jon. "Sorry," I tell him sheepishly.

"Do not apologize. I can't imagine ever being surprised at a costumed hero hearing voices," Jon replies. For some reason this makes me blush more.

"Well, it's 8:15. Why did you have me meet you here?" I ask.

In response, Jon holds something out. I take it and gasp, surprised. It's the mask I made for Walter during our first protest. Its leather surface painted with white inkblots. I blink and look away.

"Why are you giving me this?" I ask in a small voice. I am overcome with a wave of homesickness. Not for a place, but for Walter. I want to be back with him, chasing bad guys and getting into stupid fights and writing out anti-government notes.

"You will need to hide your identity for the majority of your stay, particularly tonight," Jon explains.

"My stay?" I repeat. "You mean my stay in New York or my stay in the 1970s?"

During the day, at Walter's urging, I'd scrounged up a newspaper (and, at Eddie's urging, some breakfast out of a dumpster behind a diner- not exactly my proudest moment). The dateread "September 25th, 1975". Thirty-six years into the past. I try to remember what the significance of this year could mean but I come up blank.

"Both," Jon replies. "You will stay for two months, no longer. Then you may return."

My eyes open wide. "_Two months?_" I exclaim.

"Not long at all," Jon says, reading my mind. "It would be proper for you to stay longer, but time is short."

"I thought time was relative," I accuse suspiciously.

"It is, but we still conform to it," Jon replies, unperturbed by my attitude. Then he glances sharply to his right, out the window. I look, too, but see nothing. "Put on your mask, Cadence," he instructs me.

"So why exactly did you ask me to meet you here, at this particular time?" I ask, peering through the windowpane into the greasy alley below. I tie the mask into my ponytail so it will stay.

"Goodbye, Cadence," Jon replies, making me turn my head so sharply a jarring pain stabs through my neck. He looks at me with emotionless eyes. "I will see you in two months."

Then he reaches out and pushes me through the window, shattering the glass.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, I hope you enjoyed that! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted but keep your eyes peeled and don't give up on me quite yet! Oh, and also, for anyone who's interested, I'm going to be published in a magazine sometime this month (I think, the date isn't set just yet). I'm not telling you this to brag (although I am quite proud to say the least!). This is a charity anthology for cancer research and if any of you are interested, you should totally buy a copy. The proceeds go to the Adenoid Cystic Carcinoma Research Foundation so if you have a little extra cash and you'd fight the good fight, message me and I'll give you the details. Anyway, read and review!


	4. Chapter 4

NOTE: Hello all of you lovely, wonderful, patient people! Here's chapter four, and I hope you like it!

4. That Window (Isn't the Only Thing That's Broken)

_**Rylie (8:15, Sep. 25, 1975)**_

Within a starburst of broken glass, I tumble into the alley. I manage to twist my body in midair so I'll land on my feet instead of my head. I just hope the impact won't break my ankles.

Everything moves in real time, and yet I have time to wonder just what the hell is wrong with Jon and why he pushed me out a window. Was he trying to kill me? If he was, I'm sure he could've just made me implode. Or he could have set me on fire, or transported me to the bottom of the ocean to drown. Why the fuck did he push me out a window?

My right foot hits the ground first, and though the impact hurts, I don't break anything. Almost in the same instance, the whole right side of my body rams into something hard. For a moment I think it's the brick wall of the alley, but when I open my stunned eyes I realize that it's a figure.

I stumble from the impact of rebounding off this poor soul and land in a dazed heap against the opposite wall.

I blink to clear my gaze, horribly confused. Out of the corner of my eye, I just barely catch a glimpse of a figure racing out of the alley before the shadow across from me lurches to its feet.

"_Idiot_!" it hisses in a voice so familiar it sends a bullet through my heart. I grow absolutely still, not daring to breathe or move or do anything. I stare straight ahead as the figure steps into the light of the moon, revealing his black-and-white mask and brown leather trenchcoat and purple pinstripe pants.

Walter.

_Walter._

My mouth parts with longing and a soft, indistinguishable sound escapes my lips. For a moment, I want to scramble to my feet, wrap my arms around him and kiss him. But then I notice his stance, the tense rigidity of his muscles under his clothes. His inkblot face swirls at me, and I can almost feel his fury.

Almost.

This confuses me, but not enough to erase the fear from my chest.

This is not Walter. This is Rorschach- pure, mean, raw Rorschach. _And he doesn't know me_.

The realization hurts more than I was expecting, but the pain grounds me. I cannot go up and hug him or kiss him; that would be idiocy. I would end up with a broken limb _at best_.

So instead I muster up my remaining courage, clear my throat and say, "Rorschach."

He stiffens. "What?"

I open my mouth but quickly realize that I haven't thought of anything else to say.

_Good going, genius, _I think.

After a moment, Rorschach recovers enough to grab me by the front of my stolen shirt and slam me against the wall. I let out a cough of pain and my eyes snap open wide with déjà vu.

_The moment that I touch him, he swings around, grabbing me by the front of my jacket and slamming me into the alley wall. I gasp as the breath is driven out of my lungs. Pain sears up and down my spine. My heart hammers furiously in my chest…_

Just as before, when I'd first accused Walter of being Rorschach, I blink back at him fearfully, shrinking back against the wall to make myself appear smaller. All of my survival instincts have disappeared. Because Rorschach could kill me. He really could.

I've known this all along, the whole time I spent with him, but it's only just know hitting me. Talk about a late reaction.

"You idiot," he hisses. His hot breath lashes against my face. "You let him escape."

I blink, feeling horrified and instantly guilty. The man running from the alley…of course Rorschach must have been chasing him. That's what he does. That's what _I _do. And because it's what I do it's even more mortifying.

"What were you thinking?" he continues. "That you could just drop in and become a hero? Win yourself some fame? Is that it?"

The sneer in his voice gets my back up, and even though I know _this _Rorschach will have no qualms about killing me, time spent endlessly arguing with _my _Walter has me sneering right back.

"Oh, so it's _my _fault you couldn't run fast enough to catch him? Is _that _it?"

Immediately, Rorschach clutches at my throat, choking off my airway. My eyes flare wide with panic as I fight for breath, clawing at his hand to try and pry it away. But he's got me locked in his iron grip, and suddenly I know what it's like to be on the other side. To have Rorschach think nothing of you except as another life to end.

I try to think of a plan, try to call to Jon, try to do _anything. _But a dark fuzziness has started to spread to my brain and suddenly it's all a jumble of thoughts and air, I need, air, I need…air…

Just as the world is slipping away, I hear a shout, a voice muffled by the darkness around me, and suddenly, miraculously, the hold on my throat is released.

I fall to the ground, coughing and gasping, clutching at my chest as though to tear it open and get the air directly into my lungs. Sight returns slowly in little sizzles of light and color, and I blink as I realize another figure has joined us.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But I sort of am. It's weird seeing Eddie's dad in his Nite Owl costume, even though I've known who he was for a long time. And even under his mask, I can see how young he is.

I hold my head in my hands for a moment, still breathing heavily. Reincarnation, hearing voices, talking to Dr. Manhattan and then having me throw him out a window…all of this has just been a bit much.

"Rorschach, what are you doing?" Dan exclaims, appalled. I wonder why he sounds so surprised; this is exactly the kind of thing Rorschach would do.

"She kept me from catching Estevez. Practically jumped me. Probably scheming with him," he sneers with a glare in my direction; I don't have to see his face to know his expression.

My jaw drops. "_What_?" I cry, outraged. "You think I'm plotting with Estevez?"

I don't know who Estevez is, obviously. But I use the name so smoothly that I doubt even Rorschach the Human Lie Detector will notice.

"Rorschach, why would she be with Estevez? She's wearing a mask like us!" Dan exclaims.

Rorschach turns on his partner. "You're too trusting, Nite Owl," he snaps. "Criminals wear masks just like us. A mask just means they have something to hide." He turns to glare at me while he says this, and even though I'm innocent I still blush like I'm guilty.

Which just pisses me off even more.

I scramble gracelessly to my feet and fix him with my own glare. "Not that I should even _dignify _your accusation with a response, but I am _not _scheming with Estevez. I am _chasing _Estevez."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I shouldn't have said them. I am getting myself in deeper than I should, lying about a case I have no experience with. But I can't take it back. Rorschach is staring at me with eyes I know are narrowed suspiciously, and Nite Owl is gaping at me in shock.

"You are?" he asks in disbelief.

I nod. "I am. Guess you guys are, too."

In my mind I frantically try to recall any information from Rorschach's journal. Were there any '75 entries published? I can't remember.

Dan dips his head. "We are. Have been for months. Just caught six others from the Cottonmouths, though," he says.

_The Cottonmouths! _I think with relief. I remember now. The Cottonmouths. Yes. Rorschach talked about them in his journal, although only briefly. He never went into detail.

_Well, it's _something _at least, _I think, rolling my eyes and wishing- rather ungraciously- that Jon had shared more information with me before shoving me out a window.

Dan curls his lip in dissatisfaction. "They've been pretty elusive. We were lucky to stumble on them tonight, actually."

"Until _she _let him get away," Rorschach interjects, aiming a furious look in my direction.

"I _did not _let him get away, you asshole! I didn't know you were chasing him, too, I'm sorry, but I saw an opportunity and I took it," I snap back.

"It was a stupid move. Who are you, anyway? Do you even know what you're doing?" Rorschach replies suspiciously.

I open my mouth to reply and shut it a heartbeat later. I can't tell him who I _really _am, and I don't have a vigilante alias for this mask. I cast around frantically for a name and blurt out the first one that comes to mind.

"Northpaw," I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel. "And, yes, I know what I'm doing."

"Northpaw?" Dan repeats. "Haven't heard of you."

I nod. "Just came over from Jersey. You wouldn't have," I lie. "Besides, I haven't been around _that _long. Certainly not as long as you two."

"How old are you?" Dan asks, as if he can't help himself. His voice is concerned, and it's apparent that he's just noticed how young I seem.

I draw myself up to my full height. "Can't tell you that, can I?" I reply and throw him a grim smile. At the same time I think desperately, _You know me!_

"No, I suppose you can't…" Dan agrees slowly. "How long have you been chasing Estevez?"

_Okay, Rylie. Think, _I tell myself and scramble to find an elusive detail or two from Rorschach's journal.

"Oh, not long," I lie. "Just since he killed my roommate to settle a score."

_Cocaine, _I remember. _A lot of the Cottonmouths were coke dealers._

"I'm sorry-" Dan begins, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"We weren't close. Just someone to share the rent with," I reply with a casual shrug. "But you can see what position that would put me in nonetheless. Me being a vigi and all."

"Nite Owl," Rorschach barks, interrupting me with a pointed glare. "Don't have time for this. We must be on our way."

"Hold on!" I protest, feeling a sickening lurch in my gut at the thought of him leaving. Even though he is not the man I knew, not _my _Walter, he is still Rorschach. And I still love him.

"We're in the same boat," I continue. "Maybe we could-"

"No." Rorschach's response is quick and sharp, like a parry from a knife.

"But you don't even know what I was going to say!" I protest.

"You were going to suggest we team up," Rorschach sneers in response. I blink back at him but I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. He was always very good at reading people. "I'm not stupid."

"Now, hold on, Rorschach. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea," Dan argues and I grin, nodding eagerly.

_Oh, thank you, Lord, for Dan's soft underbelly! _I think.

"No, Nite Owl," Rorschach growls, turning away. "If you want to team up with the girl, fine, but I will _not_."

"Aw, Rorschach, c'mon! Don't be such a hardass!" Dan calls after him but the walking inkblot test strides out of the alley with his hands in his pockets.

Dan looks back at me with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'd really like to help you, I would! But…" He glances in Rorschach's direction. "I can't leave him."

I sigh, feeling tears prick my eyes. "I get it," I reply quietly. _More than you know…_

"I really am sorry," Dan repeats and then, without another word, bounds off after his partner.

For a moment I stay where I am, looking down at the ground. Tears blind my sight but I blink to keep them from falling. I don't know what to feel. My emotions are all jumbled up. I'm insanely, burningly jealous of Dan's relationship with Rorschach, of their partnership, and even though I know I have that waiting for me at home, I don't have it here with me now. And now, with Rorschach gone again, I am filled with a distinct emptiness, a hollowness. I am a walking contradiction. Filled with nothing.

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself, _Walter snaps in my head, making me jump.

_Yeah, don't get all mopey on us, _Eddie chimes in, sounding cheerful as ever.

I'd all but forgotten their voices. I screw up my face in a grimace and snarl at the ground.

"Shut up, both of you," I growl.

And for once, they do.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I will try to have the next few chapters up soon-ish, but no promises...sorry! :P I love you, though! ;) Please read and review!


	5. Chapter 5

5. The Bullet Inscribed "To Whom it May Concern"

_**Eddie (Sep. 26, 1948)**_

I have no idea what I'm doing.

For the past week I've been walking Walter home. That's it. Nothing else of particular importance. Stealing food from grocery stores, sleeping any place that isn't too wet or cold.

A lot of the time I luck out with a particular apartment. The owners must be on vacation or something because they're never there. The place has a dusty smell about it, like they've been gone for a while. It's packed with books and clothes and boxes of random things. There's even a piano in the cramped living room. I play it sometimes and whenever I do, I feel closer to Rylie.

Today is no different. I am leaning against the chain-link fence surrounding Walter's school, raising an eyebrow dryly at him as he approaches. He glowers back at me but says nothing.

I fall into step at his side, hands in my pockets. After a while I begin to whistle.

Walter throws me a glare. "Stop that," he snaps.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Finally decided to talk to me, huh?" I inquire. I can't keep the smugness out of my tone.

Ever since I first started walking him home, he'd kept up a vow of silence, refusing to acknowledge me verbally. This is the first thing he's said to me in a week.

"No," he growls and looks straight ahead.

I grin. I have a talent for finding people's buttons and pressing the shit out of them. "So how was your day, kid?" I ask. I'm careful not to use his name; he still doesn't know I know it.

He ignores me but I just grin wider. "You learn anything good today? How was lunch? Or did you bring your own? How was recess? Did you play tag? Or 'Smear the Queer'?"

I watch with growing satisfaction as his shoulders grow tense and his jaw clenches. Even as a little kid he is a bundle of violent energy, just waiting to burst.

"What are reading? What are you learning in math? How are your friends?"

Before I can continue, Walter stops, swings around and hisses, "I don't _have _friends, now _shut up_!"

I flinch. I'd figured he probably didn't have any friends- even as a child, Walter was about as friendly as a pissed off porcupine. But it's strangely painful to hear him _say _it. Like a punch to the gut or a slap to the face. It sobers me.

"I'm sorry, kid," I begin. But before I can get any farther than that, the screaming starts.

My head snaps up and my vigilante instincts take hold. I am running before I have told my feet to do so, shouting over my shoulder for Walter to stay where he is. I don't look back to see if he listened. I keep running, following the sound.

It's coming from an alley up ahead, which doesn't surprise me. All dark and dirty things seem to take place in the alleys.

A man has forced a woman against the alley wall and is thrusting a gun in her face. She trembles and cries, trying to speak. But her words get tangled up with the sobbing and I can't make sense of her. The man shouts at her to be quiet.

This is all I register before he turns, hearing my footsteps, and I slam into him from the side. The gun fires and something hot and painful sears through my side. I cry out and the woman screams and I wonder if she's been shot, too. Dimly I notice that as we hit the pavement, the jarring impact sends the gun flying.

The pain is bright and hot. I double over with it, and the man has time to recover and push me to the side. Blinking back tears, I look up in time to see him push himself clumsily to his feet. His face is contorted with pain and rage, and as I watch he draws a switchblade from his belt.

I try to fight against the pain, holding my hands against the wound to stop the bleeding. But my hands are drenched and sticky and the pain only grows. I think of Rylie and wonder vaguely if this is the end for me, too. Did Manhattan bring me here to die?

"You little meddling bastard," the man hisses, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and pulling me to my feet. I take a sharp breath in through my teeth as the pain flares in my side. The man throws me back and suddenly _I _am against the wall.

"You messed with the wrong guy, buddy," he continues, holding the switchblade just inches from my face. I stare back at him, breathing heavily, wondering if I should try to fight.

_Rylie, _I think and sigh. Maybe Manhattan didn't really bring her back. Maybe she's waiting for me wherever she is. Waiting for me in Heaven, because that's the only place she could have possibly gone.

I close my eyes and brace myself to meet her, even if it's not Heaven I'm supposed to go.

_**Rorschach (Sep. 26, 2011)**_

Upon arrival at the school, know something is wrong immediately. People gathered at the front doors, shouting. Large group, kids and adults alike. Search for Jimmy or Damien. Can't find them but spot Emmi in the crowd. Keep one eye trained suspiciously on crowd and go to her.

"Emmi," I growl, make her jump.

"Oh, Walter!" she gasps, presses hand to her chest. "You sure know how to sneak up on someone."

"What's going on?" I demand.

"Well…basically people don't like the Resistance Movement," she confesses. Sounds guilty, like part of her agrees.

Has only been a day since I discovered band had become Resistance Movement. After Cadence's death and Eddie's disappearance, drumline revealed to band that the two had been vigilantes. Also told of Jimmy and Damien but not me. Appreciated that.

Went on to reveal _why _they were vigilantes. Revealed Veidt's takeover and government plot to enslave humanity. Have to hand it to the rats- are very good with weird.

_Yes, we are! _Cadence chimes in proudly.

Roll my eyes but ignore her. Most of band agreed to help in whatever way they could. Mainly this is aiding in the search for Eddie. But some of it is training.

In month since I've been gone, Jimmy and Damien have taken it upon themselves to train more vigilantes. "Training" includes physical training- things _I _taught them- and spreading the word- things _Cadence _taught them.

But they aren't quiet about it like Cadence was. They aren't gentle. They stand on streets and hand out flyers, shouting about government tyranny. Hang flyers in grocery stores, liquor stores, book stores, gas stations, anywhere. City of Lawrence has been bombarded by new wave of truthers.

Daniel and Laurie- who have come down from New York to search- don't like it, but appreciate dedication in helping search for Eddie. Though they fear for Resistance, their hands are tied. Are not willing to refuse any help in finding their son.

Rest of city not so accommodating. Hatred has been building, and a growing sense of fear. Lawrence is a bomb. Explosion not far away.

"Know they don't like the Movement," tell Emmi impatiently. Have no time for her softness or qualms. "What is going on?"

"A bunch of the students and their parents have been out here since dawn protesting. They're threatening to sue the school if something isn't done about the truthers," she explains. Sounds distraught.

Brows furrow in confusion. "Sue?" I repeat. "That's stupid. What would that prove?"

"Well, it would bring an end to the Movement," Emmi says.

Shake my head. "No. Wouldn't. Would only spur it on more."

Know that I'm right. Know it deep in my gut, and Cadence doesn't say anything so maybe she knows, too. The rats would not give up now. Whatever we've started, it cannot stop.

Cannot tell if this scares me or if I'm hungry for it.

"But if they sue, then the school would be _forced _to stop them, right?" Emmi sounds hopeful. She is part of Resistance, but I think only in honor of Cadence and to help find Eddie. Would never join willingly.

"Well, then, we'd just have to drop out and continue on our own," familiar voice cuts in. Turn to see Luke and rest of drumline. Jimmy and Damien nod grimly to me and flank me. I pretend the familiarity doesn't feel nice.

"Walter," he continues with a nod. Grit my teeth and nod back. Hate that name. Wish they could call me Rorschach. But better- safer- to hide identity.

Emmi frowns. "You don't mean that, do you?" she frets. Curl my lip in disgust. Weak. Pathetic. How did Cadence ever stand her?

_Shut the fuck up, you giant ass, she's my friend! _Cadence pipes up indignantly.

_And you're just the voice in my head. So _you _shut up_, I retort. She does.

"Of course I do," Luke replies. Sounds surprised, angry even. I smirk, satisfied. Good. Always respected Luke.

Emmi looks horrified, flustered. "But…Luke, you don't…I mean, you don't really believe…"

"Believe what?" Luke demands. Definitely angry. "Believe in what _Rylie and Eddie_ believed? In what they were all about? Look, Emmi, I don't care if you believe or not. But if you don't, then you don't have any right to be in the Movement."

She gapes at him. "Luke, I…"

"I mean it, Emmi. If you're not here to better our cause, then leave and don't come back," Luke says. Threat is all too real in his voice. Find myself thinking that he will make a good vigilante when the time comes.

Emmi glances first at Jimmy, then Damien, as though for help. Neither offer it. Have never felt more proud of them.

"O…okay…" she finally murmurs. Meek, tear-filled eyes flicker to Luke and then down. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want any more doubt. Criticism is fine if it's helpful, but I will _not _tolerate deliberate sabotage. We cannot afford subversion," Luke says, addressing all of us. He speaks truth, but it's not the only reason he will not tolerate Emmi's criticism. Can see it in his burning eyes. He will not tolerate anyone marring Cadence's good name.

Respect him even more now.

Jimmy elbows me. Eyes are grim and dark. Wonder if his exuberance has finally been extinguished. "Well. Time to face the music. You gonna come?" he asks.

"Yes."

Jimmy and Damien stay close out of habit. Vigilante bonds are hard to break. Crowd swells as we approach, oblivious to us. No one really knows who is in the Resistance. They don't recognize us. Not yet.

We are just reaching the edge of the crowd when the first shot is fired and Luke goes down.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, everyone, please review because I love to hear your feedback, and I will try to get the next chapter up as fast as possible! xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

6. Assassin pt. I

_**Maury (5:06 a.m., Sep. 26, 2011)**_

I am not in the hospital. Where am I?

I'm in Lawrence.

I hold my aching, buzzing head in my hands and groan, stumbling down the middle of a deserted street. In my other hand is a gun, cool and heavy in my grasp.

How did I get here?

They brought me here.

That brings me up short. Slowly I open my eyes and lift them to the dark, pre-dawn sky.

_They. _Who is "_They_"?

The government. Who else?

I narrow my eyes, my heart beating fast. Even though I know exactly where I am and exactly how I got here, my brain is full to bursting with a swirl of panicked questions.

The most important swims to the forefront.

_Why _am I here?

I look down at the gun in my hand. The buzzing in my mind grows louder, turns into a high keening screech. I gasp in pain, holding my hands to my ears. But the sound is in my head, not my ears, and I cannot block it out. A moment later, my sight disappears in a burst of bright white.

It doesn't last long. I am in an eternity of whiteness for only a fractionof that eternity, but while I am, something in my mind is altered. When I come out of it, I ask myself the question again.

Why am I here?

To kill the man called Rorschach.

_Intel indicates he has been hanging around Lawrence High School with the new group of truthers…_

I don't remember who told me this, or if They're somehow telling me now, but the compulsion to _obey_, to follow this lead all the way to Rorschach, to lift the gun and pull the trigger…well, it's the strongest compulsion I've ever had in my life.

Some part of me, some distant part of me, screams at me to fight. But whatever They've done to me is powerful shit, and I find that I can't. They've sedated the fight within me, pushed it down almost to point of nonexistence.

I am totally and completely at Their mercy.

A map unfolds in my mind. I still don't know if They showed it to me before or if They're showing me now, but either way I pay attention.

It's a map of Lawrence, of course, with a bright red dot on my destination. I am close. Only a few blocks to the west, the direction I was already headed. Ignoring the pain in my head, I tuck the gun into the hem of my jeans and soldier on.

It's still dark by the time I arrive at the school, though the black sky has lightened to a hazy navy color. I'm half-surprised to see a group of people already gathered at the school, and I wonder if these are the truthers They told me about.

But as I approach, I realize that they're not. They're protestors, yes, but not like I used to be. They are protesting the protestors. They're holding up picket signs and shouting for the school to "take care" of the truthers. I'm not sure what they mean by "take care" but the threat, whatever it is, is strong.

I weave into the crowd, ignoring the screaming, which has grown to ear-blasting level. I take my place at the center of the masses, one hand pressed lightly to the gun hidden under my shirt.

I'm not sure how long it takes. The sky lightens and the sun makes its first appearance in the eastern horizon. But finally, in the creamy dawn light, I see him, gathered in a group of what I assume to be truthers on a slope overlooking the school.

For just a moment, I flinch, bombarded with memories. Of him breaking my nose, shaking my hand, telling me to watch my back because you can never underestimate the enemy. Of him fighting alongside Mr. Hollis, of him talking about Rylie and Eddie, of him visiting me in the hospital.

_I can't kill him. He's my friend! _I think desperately.

But the humming grows loud in my head and the thought disappears. There is only me and him and this gun, which I must use to kill him. There are no friends. They don't exist.

I take a moment to situate myself so my aim will be perfect. Then I pull the gun from my jeans and level it. My aim is good; right between the eyes. He hasn't seen me and he won't; I am perfectly hidden within the crowd.

My heart beats fast in my throat, a fluttering pulse that I can't escape. A bead of sweat gathers on my right temple and rolls slowly down my cheek. No one in the crowd has seen me astoundingly. It's kind of a fucking miracle. It's not like I'm trying to hide the gun.

I focus all of my senses into a pencil point. All I see is Rorschach's face. Narrowing my eyes, I pull the trigger.

But just as I do, someone slams into me from the side. My aim is compromised. The bullet fires but not at Rorschach like I'd hoped.

I stare out at what I've done with wide, horrified eyes. For a moment, I am frozen while the crowd erupts in panicked screams and scatters like ants from a ruined anthill.

Then the humming bursts through my mind, an explosion of pain and white heat that erases my vision. I cry out and I think I fall to my knees.

But when my vision returns I realize that I am running, and that I must have been for a while. Because when I look back I can no longer see the school behind me.

I turn, with a gasp that feels more like a sob, and keep running.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's a short chapter, but it only felt right as a stand-alone. Well, now we know what the feds did to him. Poor Maury. I am so mean to my characters... But I digress. Please review, I'd really like some feedback on this one since, as you can see from the chapter title, there will be more than one part. (Not that it should make such a difference. I'm greedy; I want feedback on everything :P) Anyway, I love you all, and keep on the look-out for the next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

NOTE: Okay, so, at first I was going to wait to post this after I wrote it. But then I thought "goddamn it, I really just want to get this done!" So, here you go! Hope you like it!

7. Waiting for the Smoke to Clear

_**Rylie (5:06 p.m., Sep. 26, 1975)**_

I see him, walking out of a clothing warehouse on 28th street, looking more worn and tired and _old _than I've ever seen him look. The difference between my Walter and this Walter is staggering. It takes my breath away.

The shadows under this Walter's eyes look like bruises, or like the ink from his mask sunk into the spaces beneath his eyes. My Walter has shadows, too. But they're not so dark.

I follow him on the other side of the street, trying to be unobtrusive about it. The distance aches between us, though I know he's oblivious to it. My pain is palpable; it's a physical thing, and I wish I could get rid of it.

_Two months, _I remind myself. _Two months and then I can go back._

I follow him to a sleazy apartment building a few blocks away. He heads inside. I can't help feeling a stab of concern. He lives _here_?

I shouldn't be so surprised. I guess I just hoped there could have been _something_ decent about his screwed up life.

With a sigh I turn to head back the way I came, but quickly realize that I will have no idea where to find him later if I don't wait for him now.

I grit my teeth in frustration and lift my eyes to the sky.

_Jon! _I shout. _Would it kill you to help me out a little?_

His quick response surprises me. _You want to know where to find him tonight, _he says.

_YES. _

_The disused brewery on 25__th__ and Lansing at 10:18 tonight, third floor. The front door will be unlocked. Make sure to wear your mask._

Thank you, I think fervently and head back the way I came.

_~r.~_

I curl up in a tight alley under a piece of cardboard. It isn't terribly cold yet but I don't really want to be seen in such a vulnerable position. Guess Walter's paranoia has been rubbing off. I catch a few good hours of sleep and then shove off for the brewery.

Darkness has fallen over the city, though the activity is far from still. This is, after all, the city that never sleeps. I sigh and feel myself relax. A smile lights my face. Even though I'm thirty-six years away from home, this city still manages to feel familiar and, in a strange, perverse way, safe.

When I'm a few yards from 25th and Lansing, I glance down at the watch on my wrist. I stole it from a fat, rich-looking man just this morning. I felt a little bad- he looked like a nice guy despite his obvious wealth- but I figured he had enough to spare, just the same.

It's five to ten. I'm early, but I figure I might as well head inside anyway. I take a moment to pull on my mask, humming lightly to myself.

The moment I open the door, somebody grabs me and yanks me inside. I start to struggle, crying out in surprise, but they toss me away before I can do any damage.

I land hard on my left shoulder and tumble across the dusty floor, coming to a sudden stop against the south wall.

Walter's voice is abrupt and loud in my head. _Get up, now! _he shouts. The urgency in his voice is not lost on me.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I stagger to my feet, only to slam back against the wall as somebody's fist racks me. There is blinding pain in the left side of my face. A cracked cheekbone, I'm sure. Tears spring to my eyes. Blood bursts from a split in my upper lip.

_Goddammit, you pathetic beast! GET UP, _Walter snaps.

This time when I pull myself to my feet, I am ready. Another fist cocks back and aims for my face, the right side this time. Violent energy surges through me. I duck and swing my foot into my assailant's side.

_Yes! Perfect kidney shot! _Eddie cheers in my mind. I grin dangerously.

Someone else swings at me from the left. I duck and ram my head deep into their stomach, sending us both flying. He skids across the floor and I lift my head, grabbing his throat with surprising force.

Panic flits across his features, mingling with the pain and rage, but before he can asphyxiate and die, he reaches into his belt and pulls out a gun.

With Walter and Eddie screaming encouragement in my head, I let go of his neck and instead snatch the gun right of his hand. In the same movement I level it at his throat and grin. He stares at me, the shock on his face nearly comical.

_Don't get cocky, Rylie. Behind you, _Walter warns me.

I swing around, keeping one knee pressed to the man's groin as a warning. If he tries anything, all I have to do is lean my weight on that knee and he'll be howling in misery. This makes Eddie laugh.

_The ultimate pressure point, _he says, giggling like a little boy.

There are six men and two women behind me, all snarling at me like a pack of hungry wolves. I snarl right back even though my heart flutters a little at the sight of them. I've never had to face so many people alone before. I always had Walter or Eddie by my side.

_We're here, babydoll, _Eddie assures me.

Walter says nothing but I feel his presence within me, where I suppose he always is.

"You're boy here is in a bit of a sticky situation," I say, pressing the muzzle of the gun into the hollow at the base of the man's throat. He whimpers, and I feel the slight movement as he swallows convulsively.

"Now, I've got a little bit of an itchy trigger finger myself. It's something I'm working on," I continue, gracing them with an ironic smile. One of the women curls her lip and starts forward, but a man grabs her shoulder and roughly hauls her back.

I let the grin linger on my face for a second more and then narrow my eyes dangerously.

"I'm no saint, and I'm not afraid to kill. So back the fuck off and I won't pull the trigger," I growl. I can hear Eddie howling with laughter in my head.

For a moment, no one moves. I feel my stomach give a sickening clench as I realize I may actually have to shoot this man. I mean, it's not as if I've never killed before. But that was always in the heat of battle, never in cold blood like this.

_Do whatever you feel is necessary. Do not be afraid to kill, _Walter advises me. I can hear his disapproval in my hesitance and it makes me feel very young.

_He has killed so many times, _I think. It's no revelation to me, but all the same it makes me shiver.

From under me, my captive trembles and shouts, "_Listen to her, man! Fucking listen to her!_"

And finally, miraculously, they start to back up, glaring at me the whole time. I can feel their desire to murder me, to tear me limb from limb; it sizzles and sparks in the air between us.

As they back up, I get to my feet, pulling my captive up with me. I keep one hand ensnared in the front of his shirt and the other wrapped tight around the gun, its muzzle still deeply buried in the skin of his neck.

I give the room a quick once-over, examining my situation from every possible angle like Walter taught me. In the very back of the room are four large, metal stills that used to hold the liquor. To my right, a few steps from where I was originally flung, is a simple staircase and a window. Beyond that and the adversaries in front of me, there is nothing here.

I examine my options. I could pull my captive outside and try to make my getaway. But that move is inherently cowardly, not to mention I could accidentally involve innocents.

_Best to keep them in close quarters, _Walter agrees.

So I start edging toward the stairs, making sure I don't do something stupid like tripping over one of them. I half-drag, half-walk my captive with me, and the rest of the group follows me at a cautious distance.

It's a long walk, to say the least. By the time I reach the second floor- which, after a one-second assessment, seems more bare than the first- my legs are shaking from the stress and the hand gripping the gun has begun to ache.

And then, as I'm taking that final step, I suffer from a very Rylie moment. I almost think I hear Walter's exasperated sigh but it was probably my imagination.

My toe catches on the last step and I trip, landing in a very painful way on my knees. My captive falls with me and the gun tumbles out of my hand.

With triumphant cries, the crowd below surges forward. The guy closest to me scoops up the gun and points it at me; I scramble to feet and feel the hot slash of the bullet just inches from my back.

"Get her, Freddie! Get her!" one of the bitches caws while another cackles like a madwoman.

I curl my lip in disgust as I run, dodging another bullet. _Ugh, _I think. _Bitch crows._

"_Stop, bitch_!" the man with the gun screams. There is another blast of the gun, and I just manage to skid to a halt and perform a graceless switchback before my brain is blown to bits. Instead the bullet passes through the tangle of my hair as I turn, cutting through strands as easily as a knife cuts through butter.

Unfortunately my little turnaround has left me unbalanced and I go sprawling, skidding on my stomach across the floor. I wince, hoping that my bra has enough padding.

_Is that all you can think about at a time like this? Your wonderful breasts? _Eddie asks, half-amused and half- irritated.

_Shut up, Eddie._

When I finally come to a halt, I twist so I'm lying on my back, already dreading the burn marks I can feel blooming under my torn shirt. Should've worn my pea coat…but it was so nice today…

"Freddie" points the gun at me. Even from a few yards distant I can tell that it's aimed right at my forehead. _Right between the eyes…_ I swallow hard, not daring to move.

Freddie grins at me. "Yeah, bitch. Gotcha now, don't I?" he sneers. "Yeah, me? I got itchy trigger finger, too."

I groan silently to myself. _I should never have tried to be a badass, _I think. If hanging around Walter had taught me anything, it was that. It was the one truth in my life that I kept ignoring.

I close my eyes and wait for the bullet. I wonder if it'll be quicker than it was last time.

But when the blast comes, it's not what I'm expecting.

My eyes fly open. The window to my right has been shattered, by a swinging figure that is so familiar it makes my legs shake with relief. I almost shout out his name, but stop myself just in time.

_Mr. Hollis! _I think. _Dan!_

He comes swinging through the window, hanging onto the grappling hook gun that I recognize from patrolling with Walter. For a moment, he is suspended in midair amid a myriad of sparkling shattered glass, and I can't help thinking in that instant that he is the most beautiful gift from God I've ever seen.

He lands steady on his feet, years of practice shining through, and I envy him his obvious balance and confidence.

He glances first toward the opposing group, the leader of which has pointed his gun at Dan. Then he looks at me, and though I can't see his eyes I see his mouth fall open in a small "o" of surprise and recognition.

I give him a little, sheepish smile. He closes his mouth and his lips press together in a thin, determined line. Then he turns back to the gang.

"Well, now, Estevez," Dan begins.

_Estevez! _I mentally slap my palm to my forehead. Of course! Where else would I rendezvous with Dan and Walter?

_Rorschach._

Jon's voice startles me. I blink up at the ceiling, once again expecting him to be there.

_What?_

_Remember who you're dealing with, Cadence. Remember who it is you came to see, _he explains.

Rorschach. Right. Not my Walter. I have to quit looking at them and thinking they're the same man.

"Leave it alone, Owl Man," Estevez says warningly, interrupting whatever Dan had been saying. The hand holding the gun quivers but he doesn't lower it. "This ain't none of your business."

"Oh, I think it is," Dan replies. His tone is dangerous. He takes a step in Estevez's direction and his other hand flies to the gun.

"Hey! Back up! Back the fuck up! I'm warning you!" Estevez shouts, sounding more panicked than threatening. The gun shakes convulsively in his hand.

_Jeez, why couldn't he be that scared of _me? I grumble.

_Face it, sweet cheeks. You just ain't that scary, _Eddie chirps.

I ignore that.

And that's when I see, him sneaking up the stairs like a silent shadow of death, his black and white face swirling slowly with concentration. My heart leaps in my chest but I am careful not to let it show on my face. I feel his eyes on me and I glance purposefully away even though it hurts.

None of the others have noticed him, except for Dan, who probably planned this with him beforehand anyway. Then I blink, remembering something, and glance down at my watch. 10:18 on the dot. I shake my head, allowing a smirk to lift a corner of my mouth.

"Just put down the gun, Estevez. You're getting yourself into a lot more trouble than you were in before," Dan advises.

"No, man. I ain't puttin' down the gun unless you fuckin' leave!"

"You know I can't do that."

Rorschach is closing in and still no one has noticed him. He is so silent and I envy him his stealth.

And his obvious grace, which I possess none of.

"The fuck you _can't_, Owl Man! You don't need to be huntin' us at all! What did we ever do to you?" Estevez cries desperately.

Dan takes another step closer and Estevez takes a step back. The rest of his gang starts backing away, too, closer and closer to Rorschach. I start getting to my feet.

Estevez turns back to me, pointing the trembling gun once more at my forehead. I pause.

"Freeze, bitch," he snarls. "Don't fuckin' move."

"Estevez. Estevez," Dan soothes, stepping into the way of the gun and momentarily blocking me from sight. I use the opportunity to scramble to my feet.

"Just calm down. You don't want to do that," he continues.

"The fuck I _don't_! Man, all you vigis is alike!" He is practically crying now. "You come crashing in and beatin' the shit outta us…Man, tell me a good reason why I _shouldn't _just shoot you right now!"

"Me."

Everyone whips around at the sound of Rorschach's dark growl. The Bitch Crows start screaming and flipping the fuck out, lending panic to the rest of the group. Estevez stares at him for a long moment and then turns back to Dan.

I start to move then. I read the intention in his eyes and there's no fucking way he's going to get away with it.

I ram into Dan's side and Estevez pulls the trigger. There is a sharp, flaring pain in my side and I utter a short scream. The pain is familiar, and for just a second I am back in that alley, bleeding out from my heart…

But as Dan and I collapse to the dusty wooden floor, I tell myself that it's _not _the same. I have been shot in the side, not the chest. It's alright, I'll live, I'll be okay…

But the pain grips me and when I look down I feel a squeamish flutter run through me. The blood is hot and red, cascading from the wound in gruesome rivers. A wave of faintness washes over me and I fear I'll pass out.

"Northpaw!"

I blink open my eyes, struggling to stay conscious. For a moment I think it's Walter talking in my head. But then I realize that it's Dan, who's gotten to his feet and crouched over me.

_Right. Northpaw. That's my name, _I think dizzily.

"Nite Owl," I croak and grin at him. "What's kickin'?"

A small, relieved smile flickers over his lips. "Oh, the usual," he replies.

"Bunch of gangbangers trying to shoot you?"

"Like I said- the usual."

I laugh and the dizziness passes. "Pretty much."

Our quiet exchange is interrupted by the screams and shouts of battle near the stairwell. We both turn and I realize with a clench of my heart that Rorschach is alone, fighting the gang members.

Dan leaps up to help him immediately, storming into the battle with a youthful vigor I've never seen in him before. He and Rorschach flank each other automatically, and I am reminded of the way Walter and I fight with another painful little clench.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, holding my hands to the gunshot wound to try stave off the bleeding, I push myself to my feet. The Bitch Crows have disappeared downstairs, and one of the men as well. The others have stayed to fight, Estevez included.

Once I'm on my feet, the adrenaline surges through me and the pain lessens. I skid for the stairwell, ducking to avoid a blow to the head as I weave my way through the fighting. I hear Dan call my name but I don't stop to look back. I take the stairs two at a time, hoping I'm not too late.

The Bitch Crows are just racing through the door, screaming shrilly, and I'm about to follow when the missing man lunges out at me and tackles me to the ground.

He doesn't waste any time, sending a swift punch to my face. His knuckles crack against my temple in a bright burst of sickening pain and the dizziness returns with a vengeance.

_Focus, Cadence, or he'll kill you! _Walter roars.

His voice is the only thing that has me surging upward, my hands at the man's throat. His eyes bulge with surprised terror and he collapses under me and suddenly we have switched positions. Teeth clenched, a wild snarl on my face, I dig my fingers into his skin until it gives. His mouth parts, searching for air, and I dig in harder.

"_Die, _motherfucker," I hiss.

I'm not really sure what's come over me. I've never felt such violence before, such black hatred, and I'm not entirely sure it's mine. For a moment, I wonder if it's Walter's, but that's impossible since he is in a complete other decade, a complete other _millennium_.

I hold on until the last panicked breath fades from his lips and his eyes lose their terrified glow.

_**Rorschach (Sep. 26, 2011)**_

For just a moment, myself and rest of truthers are frozen, staring down at Luke's still body. Blood seeps in rivers down stomach, where he's been shot. For dreadful second, am back in alley with Cadence in my arms, blood running down her body, cascading from her lips…

_Oh, Southpaw… _I hear her whisper. Mournfulness sweeps over me, drowns everything else. Body feels weak. Knees shake.

_Northpaw, _I think. Wishing she would answer.

_Southpaw, get your shit together! _Cadence barks, startles me. _Don't stand there like a fuckin' moron, _help _him!_

She breaks me from trance. Burst into movement, startle the others. Crouch on knees at Luke's side and feel for pulse. Slow, but still there. Face is pale, lips outlined with thin trickle of blood. Close my eyes for a moment, banish images of Cadence once more. Then turn to others.

"Call 911," I hiss.

Emmi does this, pulling out cellphone and dialing with shaky fingers. Turn to Ben, who clutches his sister, Bailey's hand, so tight knuckles have gone white.

"Need your help," growl at him.

Though face is white with horror, nods immediately and kneels at my side. "What do you need?" he murmurs. Tone is serious, unwavering. Reminds me of Luke.

"Need to stop bleeding. Lost too much already. And water."

Ben blinks. "Water?" he repeats.

"Yes," hiss impatiently. "Need to get fluids to him now. Unless you plan on donating."

Ben turns to his sister. "Go get some water," he commands.

She rushes off with wordless nod, Russell at her side. Emmi delicately touches shoulder, and when I look at her she blinks tearful eyes at me.

"The ambulance is on its way," she murmurs, voice nearly inaudible.

Nod to her and turn back to Luke. Ben has taken off shirt, pressed wad of it to Luke's wound. Fabric is soaked in seconds, stained with dark red blood.

Anxiety pierces chest. Ambulance may be too late. Bullet may have severed a crucial artery or punctured an organ. Fingers tremble to take a look but know I won't be doing any good without proper tools.

Below us, crowd has gone insane. Protestors have fled, screaming. A few peek at us, curious and terrified. Want to strangle all of them.

Luke stirs, drawing back my attention. Eyelids flutter open. Mouth parts and lets out bubbling cough. Little spatters of blood burst out, dotting his skin.

"Luke," I whisper.

Eyes roll slowly and land on me. Blinks and expression becomes surprised. "Wa-lter," he croaks and starts coughing. More blood spews in gruesome ribbons from lips.

"Hush," I order harshly. Don't want him to say anything. Might say good-bye.

Luke does not listen.

"Walter…what…happened?

"You got shot, buddy," Ben answers, forcing weak smile. "Lucky you. Now don't talk."

A few minutes pass. Bailey and Russell come running back, out of breath, each holding two cups of water. Hand them to me and Ben. Rest of drumline gathers in tight circle around us, eerily quiet.

Pressing hand to back of Luke's head, carefully lift him to sitting position and press cup to his lips. Eyes roll to me questioningly.

"Drink," I order sharply. "Need fluids."

Needs no more encouragement. Drinks like a good boy until he sputters and chokes. I hold him by shoulders while Ben slaps him on the back. His coughing fit leaves blood splattered on my face.

Screaming from crowd below grows into a roar. Glance down and feel wave of shock. Police in riot gear have infiltrated crowd, pushing through roughly and barking out orders. Can't understand what they're saying, but seem to be searching for someone. Most likely shooter.

Some in crowd get feisty, surprising me. A few try to fight, then a few more. Emmi gasps and presses hand to my shoulder.

"We need to do something!" she cries.

Yank shoulder from her grip but know she's right. Fine line between my hatred for the protestors and my hatred for the cops. But cops win out in the end.

I stand. Jimmy and Damien are at my side in an instant. Nod to them and risk a last glance at Luke. Bailey has taken up my post, and is gently coaxing cup to his lips. Russell has taken off shirt and exchanged Ben's for his. Luke will be- should be- fine until ambulance arrives.

Jimmy, Damien and I run. Hit the crowd at full-tilt sprint, slam bodies into officers, surprising them. Officer swings for my face. Duck and bring fist crashing up, cracking his bottom jaw. Steal gun from his hand as he falls and jab butt of gun into another officer's stomach, past protection of gear.

Protestors abandon the fight first sign of us. Soon just three of us against squadron of cops.

Have just taken down another cop when I look up and see an officer swing gun into Jimmy's head with one sweeping blow. Jimmy crumples to ground, blood coursing down wound in his head. Damien rushes to him immediately.

Black rage sweeps over me, hot and blinding. Zero in on officer and pounce, sending him to ground beneath me. Fingers close around his throat, clenching off airways. Hatred courses through veins, fire bubbling in blood.

Officer's helmet has fallen off head in fall, revealing his face. Eyes bulge in terror. Mouth parts, searching for air. Dig fingers in deeper.

"_Die,_" I hiss and he does.

Look up moment later to see other cops gathered, watching warily. Snarl at them. _Want _them to come. Want to kill them all.

Then Ben is calling my name. Whip head around, still snarling wildly.

"Walter!" he cries. "Get out of here!"

Blink, rage clearing momentarily. Turn to see Damien has already carried Jimmy away. Don't even know where they went. I must leave, too, or succumb to arrest.

Swing body around and wheel to my feet. Take off running before any of the cops can respond, heading west.

_**Eddie (Sep. 26, 1948)**_

The jab from the knife that I'm expecting never comes. Instead there is a surprising blast that startles me, my eyes wide open.

It's a gun blast, I realize, and the man is now lying in a pool of his own blood before me, eyes vacant. The switchblade has skidded a few feet away.

Mouth gaping and eyes wide with shock, I turn to my left to see who could have possibly shot him.

Walter. Little Walter stands in the middle of the alley, gun still raised and smoking, his expression mirroring mine. He looks so surprised that he's actually used the gun, that he actually pulled the trigger, that I start to laugh.

The laughter hurts and I wince, pulling at my wounded side. Right flank, pretty damn deep.

Before I know it, Walter is crouched in front of me, having abandoned the gun. His blue eyes are big as saucers, terrified and excited at the same time.

"You were shot," he says, trembling.

I want to praise him for his exemplary observational skills.

"Yeah. Fun times," I reply and laugh again. I wonder silently if the bullet ruptured anything internally, like an organ. But my laughter turns to coughing and then a thin trickle of blood is running from my mouth and I _know. _

"Dammit," I mutter, spitting. My blood stains the concrete dark red.

Walter stares at the spot for a long moment and then turns back to me. "You need to go to a hospital," he whispers. I'm surprised to read concern in his expression.

"Yeah, and you need to get out of here," I reply, wiping a dribble of blood from my chin.

He blinks at me, seeming surprised that I should come to such a conclusion. "No," he says. My surprise at his concern turns into complete shock when I his expression becomes teary.

"_No_," he repeats forcefully. "I won't leave."

Ah, and there it is. Some of the fierce, unshakeable loyalty I know from _my _Walter making an early appearance. I smile, glad that I'm privy to it.

But the smile disappears when I hear footsteps approaching, and voices raised in confusion. Must have heard the gunshots and waited just long enough for the smoke to clear…

"Kid, you need to get out of here," I repeat, more firmly this time.

Walter shakes his head, though he casts a nervous glance down the alley at the voices. "No, I want to help you get to the hospital," he insists.

"I can get myself to a hospital on my own, but you need to leave now, Walter!"

The moment I say his name, something shifts between us. He looks at me and I look at him, and for a heartbeat we _know _each other, and I'm not entirely sure what that means but I can definitely _feel _it.

Then he scrambles to his feet and races away, in the opposite direction of the voices.

As soon as he's gone, I look up at the sky and shout his name.

_Manhattan!_

_I am here._

_Take me away. Take me away before they find me._

_As you wish._

Then, in a flash of blue, I am gone, too.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alrighty, well, it's the first pretty long chapter in this story and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing...guess I'll let you decide. Lots of action, so, yay! Thanks you guys who are still reading, I love you so much! :) Now please review so I know if I'm doing good or if I'm just completely fucking up haha xoxo


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